A Child of War
by Storm Notorious
Summary: "The Dalek Emperor's Nightmare Child, as the Time Lords called it. An expert weapons designer, and quite possibly one of the most dangerous things to be at the mercy of in all of space and time." Takes place during Season 5.
The _First Year of the Last Great Time War..._

Dalek Caan swiveled to face the standard drone Dalek that had entered the room. "Report."

The dalek raised its manipulator arm as a sign of respect. "The Zygon homeworld has been destroyed. No prisoners taken."

"Excellent. Increase production on Degradations."

"I obey." The Dalek drone turned and exited the room.

Dalek Caan turned to face the rest of the Cult. "The Zygon homeworld has been destroyed, along with the last traces of the resistance. This is a victory for the Dalek forces."

The Cult of Skaro was gathered around a Time Lord cadaver on a examination table, with half of its organs taken out and distributed around the room in bronze bowls. The corpse was beginning to rot, but the Daleks were unaffected by the stench. While Daleks had a rudimentary sense of smell programmed into their tanks, it was more akin to that of a Earth's snake, gathering and analyzing information and transmitting the results directly into the brain of the Kaled mutant.

Dalek Jast had its manipulator arm extended to a control sphere, operating the whirl of Dalekanium medical equipment that was picking the cadaver apart. "It matters not. The Zygons were never a threat. We should deploy the fleet and lay waste to Gallifrey itself."

Caan turned towards it. "Gallifrey's defenses outpace our current firepower. Our strategists have not devised a way to break through the four hundred sky trenches or the transduction barrier."

Jast withdrew its manipulator arm. "The Time Lords still have military bases on other planets. We should-"

Dalek Sec's booming voice echoed from the back of the room. "Enough." It glided back to the table. "Our technology stations are seeded across the past, future, and alternate universes. Our technology is rapidly progressing. The Zygons were staunch allies of the Time Lords, and now they are dust." Sec looked down at the cadaver. "We have enough information. By the order of the Dalek Emperor, we are to create the Nightmare Child."

The Cult of Skaro spoke in unison. "We obey."

* * *

The Nightmare Child.

Millions of years ago, long before the Time Lords, the Daleks, and the Time War, there was the Dark Times. A period of wild chaos where species like the Carrionites, and the Nestenes, and the Great Vampires bred and died.

And the Deathsmiths. Expert weapon designers that were feared by all and hated by many, they flourished in the Dark Times. They came from the planet Goth, one of twenty-seven planets orbiting the star X5-89593. By the golden age of the Time Lords, Goth was the only planet remaining. The Deathsmiths had destroyed each and everyone of their planetary neighbors, purely because they could. That told you all you needed to know about them.

In time, the Deathsmiths' hubris was their undoing. They created the Apocalypse Device, an indestructible living superweapon that held every disease in the universe. It escaped their confines, and they were forced to destroy all their spacecraft to prevent it from killing off the universe. Goth became their grave and the Deathsmiths were no more.

Except one. During their research into cloning (a subject they were never able to breach, due to...complications), they had an infant child in cryogenic storage in the Time Vortex. Unfortunately by the time the Daleks came by it, the child had died due to the beginning skirmishes of the Time War warping the Vortex. However, some tof the DNA was still viable. Combining it with the cells of captured Time Lords, the Cult of Skaro was able to clone a healthy child in an incubator.

Why? The Deathsmiths held everything by blood. Marriage, oaths, and their weapons. Every planetary weapon, every earth-shattering bomb, and every Void Ship design of the Deathsmiths was encoded into their DNA. Every member of the Deathsmith race had the schematics for planet-destroying weaponry in their memory. A single child could bring death to millions.

And that was the Dalek Emperor's Nightmare Child. A Time Lord-Deathsmitm hybrid, that designed weaponry for the Daleks to deploy throughout all of space and time.

The Nightmare Child watched the rain drop slowly make its way down the side of the spaceship metal exterior. The Daleks had not told him of his origins, of course. To them, he was another Dalek. He served, and that was that.

No, that was Davros, their creator. Closest thing he had to a-

He paused. What was the word? Ally? No. As harsh as the Daleks were, they brought him nutrients, a place to rest, and access to their laboratories to design new weapons.

He got off the ground. If he stayed out in the Skarosian rain long enough, his immune system would be compromised. He made his way into the spaceship, taking longer strides to adjust to the lower gravity. Daleks were minimalists, in very sense of the word. Just enough gravity for them to function, not taking into account his needs. Davros was almost Dalek anyway, he never complained. His room-if he could call it that-was simply that, a room. No bed, no mattress, just a light scattering of grass. When he was not confined to the laboratories, he was to remain in his room, with nothing to do. Usually he reviewed his memories, watching planets burn and entire races go extinct. Not much else to do.

But the Dalek drone that had ordered him to report to Skaro did not take into account the teleportation bracelet he was allowed-or rather ordered-to keep. So he had three hundred and fifty-two rels of unaccounted time.

H wasn't sure what to do with that. He had the absolute minimal amount of sleep he needed to function at top efficiency allotted to him, he rarely needed to eat these days, and when he did the Daleks provided it. And the rest of the day he spent in the laboratories or directly assembling weapons. So he sat out in the rain, until three hundred and twelve rels had passed.

A standard Dalek drone was waiting for him at a junction.

"Nightmare Child. You are twelve rels late." Daleks were punctual and precise to a fault. As Dalek-like as he was (they had not been able to administer Dalek nano-genes into his bloodstream), he was still not one of them. A random factor, like uncontrolled oxygen in his chemical weapons. It unsettled them, he thought.

"The gravity is disrupting my movement." Short and precise.

The Dalek nodded (as much as a Dalek could nod). "Follow." It glided down the hallway, and the Nightmare Child followed in its wake.

* * *

 **Hello, Whovians. Trying out a story I've I've had jangling around in my head, tell me what you think.**


End file.
